


Fix It

by smokesforsterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Interior Designer!Derek, M/M, prompt fills, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:56:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesforsterek/pseuds/smokesforsterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as for the prompt I'd love to read Sterek with I’m an interior decorator and you hired me to fix up your apartment au (seriously can you see Derek being a decorator ?)</p>
<p>honestly? no i can’t. BUT IT’S SO ABSURD THAT IT COULD REALLY WORK. So let’s see what I can cook up for you! Derek insists that he is a handy man but in all honesty, he is an interior designer. Also Stiles is living in what is known as  Derek’s loft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix It

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of some prompts that I was taking on [tumblr](http://smokesforsterek.tumblr.com) (now closed) and I wanted to post them on here just in case something happens to my blog.

Stiles’ new apartment was- well, it was terrible. Stiles finally finished college, got his dream job, and got his own apartment. He was making decent money and could afford a place downtown a 15 minute walk from his work. He was on top of the world. Nothing could stop him. 

Until his land lord gave him his keys and he opened the door to his apartment. 

It was wrecked. The last tenant was evicted and while she was packing she seemed to have punched several holes in all the walls, the concrete floor was covered in paint, the light fixtures were hanging off the walls, it was a disaster. Stiles’ heart sank. 

He could never fix this on his own. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying. 

* * *

He needed to stop trying. The walls probably looked worse with  Stiles’ attempt to patch them up himself. His land lord was no help at all. He tried to clean the concrete  floors but he only made it worse and he almost died from electrocution three times and didn’t want a fourth. 

“The place is a shit hole, I pay so much in rent but I can’t do anything to fix it up. My landlord says it’s my problem,” Stiles complained while he was at his dad’s for dinner. “I don’t know what to do.” Stiles sighs and pushes his broccoli around on his plate. He felt so helpless. He genuinely didn’t know what to do and for the first time in a long time.

This apartment was a money pit and he needed a way to get out. 

“I know a guy, Derek, he could fix it for you. He comes around to fix things up here. I could give you his number.”

“I can’t afford an interior designer dad,” Stiles knew his dad didn’t build hat deck on his own. 

“He’s not an interior designer. He’s a handy man, and he works for food and a place to sleep. Something you have both of,” his dad pulls out his phone and pulls out a pen and paper from his pocket. He scrawls a number on it, folds it in half and slides it on the table. “Text him, tell him John gave you the number. He’ll help you out. He’s a great guy.” 

Stiles sighs and tucks the paper into his pocket. Maybe he’ll call him. 

* * *

The last straw comes when a bird flies in from a window that was covered with some plywood poops on his laptop. Stiles yells and stands up. He needs to get this place fixed. He finds the jeans he wore to dinner with his dad a couple weeks ago. 

He finds them but he just washed them so the paper is cumpled and unreadable. He sighs again because this is ridiculous. He pulls out his phone and calls his dad. 

“Hello?”

“Daddio, I need that guys number. They interior design guy.”

“You gonna call him and get your place fixed up?”

“A bird just pooped on my computer. This place needs to be fixed and I can afford to give up my couch for a few days,” Stiles looked up to the window the bird came in. 

His dad gave a deep chuckle and told him the number. “There you go son.” Stiles copied the number.

“Thanks Pops,” Stiles  

Stiles copies the number again into a new text message. “Hi, my name is stiles. my dad, John gave me this number. he said you were an interior designer and that you work for a place to crash and food. If you’re available, i’ld like to hire you.” 

It didn’t take to long for a response to come in. “I’m a handy man. What is your address.” Stiles was a little worried at how sketchy this was but he typed out his address non the less. If his dad trusted this guy, so could he.

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning 8am.” Was all he got in response.  

Until tomorrow Mr. Derek.

* * *

There is a loud buzzing from the PA at 7:30am. Stiles groaned as his phone told him this Derek guy was half an hour early.  He pulled himself out of a bed, and pads to the front door to buzz the guy in. He moves over to the kitchen, and pulls out his instant coffee, which was shit but all the sockets in the kitchen were shorted and he still needed coffee. 

The knock at the door came soon enough and Stiles pads over to the door to let this stranger into his home. His shit hole of a home, but his home nonetheless. What he was not expecting was the tall, dark, and broody guy standing at his door. He almost chocked on his coffee and ended spitting a little bit back into his cup. 

“Are you Stiles?” he looked completely bored with the lanky person standing in from of him. 

“Uuuuuhhhh. YES! Yes I am! Are you Derek? The interior designer?” The guy- Derek- just nods. Stiles opens the door more for him to be able to walk through. 

“I’m not an interior designer, I’m a handy man.” Derek pushes past him with a duffle bag.  Stiles raises his eyebrows as the tall mass of muscle passes him. 

“So, as you can see, this place is a mess. The last tenant was evicted and she trashed the place when she lest. I tried to fix it up but, to be honest it looked better when I moved in.” He let out a huff that was supposed to be a laugh. 

“You want the walls fixed?” Derek dropped the duffle bag and looked around as he crossed his arm. That only made his pecs more apparent under his tight black Henley. 

“The walls, the electrical, the floors, the windows, basically everything,” Stiles tries to mimic Derek’s stance, but his flat chest didn’t do anything with his too-big t-shirt.  All Derek does is nod. 

“Should take a month.” Derek digs into his duffle bag, grabs his wallet, and leaves out the door without another word. 

* * *

Stiles came home a week later with armfuls of groceries. He expected Derek to be working because he always when when they weren’t eating or sleeping. What he didn’t, but probably should have, was Derek in the living room bare chested and gleaming with sweat and a light dusting of drywall. Stiles was going to faint. 

“Have you chosen a color?” Derek says as he fills the holes where the new drywall was nailed to the wall. 

Stiles was still to dumbstruck to give a coherent answer. “What?”

“A color, you need to paint the wall with something. You can’t keep it this color. I’ll bring some swatches tomorrow.”

“Thought you said you weren’t a n interior designer?”

“’M not,” he continued putting the joint compound on the wall. Stiles just smiles and goes to put all the food away. 

“I got you some Muscle Milk, I know you like it,” Stiles pulled out a pack and put it in the fridge. 

“Thanks.” The work on the dry wall continues. 

The next day when Stiles gets home from work there is a large book of colors. Some from warm tan colors to one ranging from white to grey. “I’d go with a grey color.” Derek was working on a light fixture over the bed. 

* * *

The work started to slow after that. Derek and Sties found themselves spending more time on the couch just talking. Stiles learned that Derek used to work with his sisters. They owned a construction company, he was in charge of construction and his sisters furnished and decorated the places. The company went under and now he just freelances. 

They talked a lot and it seemed like the apartment was put on the back burner for now as the two became closer. Stiles would find Derek shivering on the couch and invite him into his bed because it was warmer. When he wok up with Derek’s arm over his waist and his back against Derek’s chest he didn’t immediately push the warmth away. 

The month Derek first predicted went by, the apartment wasn’t finished because Derek was always adding little things to do. He put in a club footed bathtub big enough for two, added a sink, put new counter tops in. Stiles could feel Derek making new projects so he wouldn’t have to leave. And o be honest, Stiles didn’t want him to leave. This past month had been amazing. 

Stiles came home to find Derek painting the walls. Derek finally convinced Stiles to go with a grey color since he seemed to be doing that to the entire place anyway.

“Derek, can I ask you something?” The paint roller stopped midway down the wall. “What are we?” 

It was a valid question. They had been hanging around each other, sleeping in the same bed, they went out to dinner once with his dad no less. Stiles just wanted to know if they were a couple. 

“What do you mean?” Derek continued painting. 

“I mean, if it looks like a duck and it sounds like a duck, then it’s a duck,” Stiles has his hands on his hips.

“Who said anything about ducks?” Derek turned around and had a genuine look of confusion on his handsome face. 

“No! I mean like, are we dating? Because it looks like we’re dating.” Stiles has never been so nervous waiting for an answer. Not even when he was waiting for the results of his job interview. 

“Was it not clear we were dating?” Derek’s eyebrows were still furrowed and the paint roller was still on the wall. 

Stiles can’t stop the smile on his face and rushes to Derek to kiss him. Derek drops the roller and gets some paint on the new windows and crashes onto the newly cleaned and stained concrete floors. Derek takes Stiles into his arms and carries him to the bed. 

“Was it seriously unclear that we were dating? I mean we sleep together every night.” Stiles rolls his eyes and brings Derek in for another kiss.  

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I know this got super rushed at the end, but I could easily write 5k on this. I may or may not come back and add more.


End file.
